Thirty and One

His hand around my waist,
his head on my shoulder,
his hair wheat-brown
the colors of my beloved’s,
his unshaved face scratched my shoulder.

We rotated

him once

me once

a dance in the center of the wheat-farm.

A passing old man said
"I thought you're dancing
and the scarecrow is your partner."

"So did I,” I laughed.

The dried maize's leaves,
shocks of wheat, and orange pumpkins,
children riding on slow carts.

I took his hand
on the soil,
dragging along
I took it home,
I planted it in the garden.

Translation and editing by Sheema Kalbasi and Roger Humes